Burn.

Oh, and what about that little boy Too young to figure out what state he’s in One of the unfortunates Battered uniform, off-white and pale blue stripes Rigid ribs exposed as instructed Observe the old and frail sent off to the dungeon Suffocating smoke chokes moist air, eyes become blind Just the beginning of disturbance For that little boy Corrupt by his Jewish faith Infants garbaged into swallowing pits And as a threat, little boys just like him, hanged for showcase By night, Packed – Beneath, between, intertwined Within one another Packaged and canned And thrown out if you’re spoiled Oh, and what about that little boy’s friend Who made it past those neighboring gates Who didn’t have a clue of what he was getting himself into Even in his last few moments alive By then, It was already too late Pressed against each other Little boys, hand in hand Faced their poisoned ashes Cremated together Forever forgotten As what has happened, had happened Went on

Subscribe

Get Teen Ink’s 48-page monthly print edition. Written by teens since 1989.